Feathers
by Sari Dark
Summary: Wing fic. No slash.


Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: I had the sudden need for fluff. Cas and Dean are a little OOC for sure...but it was begging to be written.

Dean takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, pushing the books away from him on the table. They've been going through these books for hours now and Dean is restless. He knows how important this research is, but it's not worth the last strand of his sanity. Dean stretches his arms over his head and shifts, causing his spine to snap, crackle, and pop like a breakfast cereal. He looks over to Sam at the other table, so deeply engrossed in his reading he hasn't noticed Dean's movements. Dean looks around, expecting to see his trench-coated friend lurking in a corner, the angel preferring to stand or walk when researching, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Sam." Dean says, getting his brother's attention. "You know where Cas went?"

Sam looks around for a moment as if getting his bearings back in the real world.

"Umm…I think he went to his room."

"His room? When was that?"

Sam looks at his watch. "About ten or fifteen minutes ago." He says with a sigh before diving back into his research.

Dean stands and collects both his and Sam's empty beer bottles, giving him a valid reason to leave the room.

'I wonder what Cas is up to?' Dean wonders as he puts the bottles in the recycle bin.

If Dean were to be honest with himself he was really curious. He hasn't seen the angel's room since he showed Cas where it was when the angel first moved in. His curiosity gets the best of him and he heads down the hall to the bedrooms; Cas's a few doors down from his and Sam's rooms. It's very quiet and Dean starts to wonder if the angel is even there, but then he hears it. A sound he hasn't heard in a while. The flapping of wings.

If curiosity really did kill the cat and Dean was a cat? He probably would have used his ninth life a long time ago. He presses himself against the wall and sidles up to where Cas's door is left open a crack. The experienced hunter slowly opens the door more so that he can see what is inside.

The sight that reaches Dean's eyes is almost beyond comprehension. At the center of a near-blinding light Castiel is perched on the edge of his bed with his shirt off, a halo of brightness glowing of his surprisingly muscular frame, one giant ebony wing between gently stroking hands. Dean stands transfixed, mouth agape, at the door as Castiel carefully smooths his shining feathers; the angel so transfixed by his task that he doesn't even notice the hunter's presence. The angel slowly works his way towards the tip of his wing, giving attention to every feather, zipping the soft barbs back together. Having finished with his right wing, Castiel relaxes it against his back, trying not to ruffle his newly preened feathers. Without realizing it Dean has started to lean closer, unable to even blink as he watches in fascination as the angel turns slightly to his left before unfolding his left wing.

Dean gasps. The wing sits at an odd angle and is missing large chunks of feathers. Castiel whips towards the sound, both wings raised on instinct to flee if necessary. Dean watches as a single black feather flutters to the floor from the ruined wing. He stares at it for a moment. When he finally looks up Castiel's piercing blue eyes meet his. Dean can't read the angel's expression, but he seems to be holding his breath, perhaps waiting for judgment. Dean doesn't know how to react, but before he can think of something to say he finds himself halfway across the room, eyes again transfixed on the fallen feather. He shifts awkwardly in the middle of the room, glancing up at Castiel who stares back at him with curiosity and a certain weariness that Dean doesn't quite recognize.

Unsure of what to do next, but feeling he can't go back now, Dean takes another step forward and cautiously picks up the feather. The soft barbs glow gently against Dean's palm.

"They're…they're beautiful." Dean whispers, feeling the need to say _something_, his voice rasping in awe.

Castiel's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of his friend cradling his fallen feather in his hands. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he has no words. Dean runs a finger along the feather's edge, brushing some dirt off. Underneath it glows an almost pure white, the glare causing Dean to squint. He looks up from the feather to gaze upon the angel it came from, but Castiel looks away and blushes in embarrassment, trying to hide his ripped wing with his body, his good wing fluttering nervously.

'Is he embarrassed by his wings?' Dean thinks in astonishment.

Castiel clears his throat and, finding his voice, whispers: "…but, they're tainted…"

For the second time tonight, Dean's jaw drops open in astonishment.

"If they're like this tainted, I can't even imagine what they look like when they're not!"

Castiel's blush deepens, causing his glowing aura to tinge red.

"And is something wrong with your wing? You should've told me if you were injured." Dean adds, realizing how girly he sounded and trying to salvage his hunter's pride.

"It's nothing." Castiel answers quickly, turning sideways and wrapping his arm around it protectively, poorly hidden panic in his voice.

"Cas…" Dean sighs. Sometimes his friend, the powerful angel of the Lord, could be really childish.

The angel meets Dean's gaze and reluctantly releases his wing, trusting his friend. His injured wing sits lower than his right and the feathers are sticking up at strange and uncomfortable angles in some places.

Dean comes forward to stand in front of Castiel at the side of his bed, absently twisting the feather he's holding between two fingers. Castiel watches the feather for a moment before meeting his friend's eye.

"If I'm gonna help you, you've got to let me see it." Dean says, the feather stilling as he gets serious.

Cas looks towards his injured wing for a moment before ducking his head and lifting the tattered wing gingerly. Dean steps forward and cautiously runs two fingers over the top of the wing. About half way Castiel jerks away in pain.

"Whoa!" Dean, a little startled by the sudden flutter of feathers, takes a step back and pulls his hands away; keeping them up so Cas can see them.

"I'm sorry." Castiel apologizes. "I didn't intend to startle you."

Dean gives him a strange look. "What are you sorry for? I just poked at your injury. It's not your fault it hurts."

Castiel tilts his head thoughtfully.

"I suppose you're right."

Dean rolls his eyes at the angel, returning to his previous position.

"Now; I obviously found a spot that hurt. If I'm hurting you, tell me, but try not to flap me in the face, ok?"

The angel nods and extends his wing again. Dean, more confident this time, supports the wing from above with his left hand as his right gently flattens the feathers around the injury, progressively getting closer; the hunter's probing fingers feeling the structure underneath.

Castiel tenses for a moment, but doesn't move. "That hurt." He says impassively.

Dean frowns and makes a mental note of the area before moving on. After flattening out more of the dark feathers it becomes very clear that the area is quite swollen with a possible broken bone.

"How'd you manage to break a wing? I thought you couldn't even fly these days anyways."

The glowing man blushes again, embarrassed.

"I…I tried to fly without enough grace…" he says shyly.

Dean sighs, taking pity on the poor angel.

"Well that wasn't very smart, now was it?" He says teasingly.

"No. I suppose not." Cas says pitifully.

Dean really doesn't know how to answer that and feels like he messed up bigtime, but doesn't know how to fix the situation, so he plows ahead and changes the subject.

"So you're glowing. That's new."

His friend gratefully takes the unspoken apology and goes along with the new topic.

"This form is between my vessel and my true form. My true form is comprehended by humans to be a shape of light. In this form I can manifest my wings without harming anyone."

"That's cool. And I kinda dig the black wings." Dean says as he continues his examination.

Cas stares at Dean in astonishment.

"I know you said they were tainted, or whatever, but I like the black. I think it suits you better then pearly white." He adds, not noticing his friend's expression.

What he doesn't miss, however, is when the angel's aura turns a mix of bright yellow and pink. When he looks to his friend's face to try and read the angel's emotions there are tears in Cas's eyes and the angel quickly hides his face with his hands and his good wing, embarrassed.

"Uh. Um… was it something I said?" Dean asks, trying to placate the weeping angel, having no idea what he could have possibly done to make Cas cry.

Cas quickly wipes away his tears and folds his wing again.

"Dean, you just made all of this worth it."

Cas offers a small, but heartfelt smile.

"Wait. I did?" the hunter asks, thoroughly confused now.

"My wings have been this way since I raised you from Hell."

Dean's eyes widen and his jaw drops as understanding dawns.

"They're like this because of me?" he asks, his fingers absently brushing over the soft plumage.

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize." Cas cuts him off, knowing his hunter friend will try to blame himself. "They are this way because I made a mistake, not because of anything you did or did not do."

There is a comfortable silence between them before Dean continues.

"Have you ever wished they were like they were before?"

"Sometimes; especially right after. And though I didn't really understand at the time, Uriel used to bully me about them."

"Man, and I thought he was a dick before…anyways, we should get a splint and some ice on this wing." Dean says, finishing his examination; the only other problem he found being a fist-worth of missing flight feathers.

Castiel nods and stands, allowing his left wing to relax, but not close all the way.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Dean says, holding a hand up to stop him.

Cas tilts his head to the side, looking very much like a bird at the moment, before stating:

"To get ice."

"No… I'm going to get your ice, and you're going to stay here and figure out how we can splint your wing without hurting it more."

Cas nods in agreement, but Dean is already out the door and down the hall towards the ice-maker in the kitchen.

Dean sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He knew Cas had wings, he had seen the shadows of them the first time they met, but it was still sort of weird to actually see them, let alone be able to touch them. Dean's hand drifts to the breast pocket of his shirt and he pulls out Cas's feather, not remembering how it got there. He examines it as he walks and nearly walks right into Sam.

"Hey, what's going on? You've been gone awhile."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I didn't think you even noticed."

Sam gives him a meaningful look. "You really think I wouldn't notice you going off towards Cas's room after asking me where he is?"

Dean considers this for a moment. "Valid point. Speaking of which…" he gestures towards his previous destination, Cas's feather softly glowing in his hand.

Sam's eyes widen. "Is that…?"

"Uh…what? Oh. Yeah. It's Cas's. The idiot managed to break his wing and didn't tell us." Dean says, self-consciously trying to hide the feather. "I was going to get him some ice."

He eventually settles for putting the feather back in his breast pocket as he brushes past Sam to complete his original task.

Sam looks after his brother in wonder. He's never seen an angel feather before. Then it dawns on him what his brother had said: Cas has a broken wing. Sam's brain kicks into over drive. How do you set a broken wing? He hurries back to the library and grabs his laptop and the duffle bag of medical supplies before heading for Cas's room.

Meanwhile, Dean fills a couple plastic baggies with ice and grabs one of the nicer soft ice packs from the freezer. He sighs. 'Why didn't he tell me?' he wonders. Surely Cas knew he thought of him the same way he thinks of Sam, as a brother. So why hadn't he said anything? Then he remembers the look on his friend's face when he saw Dean looking at his tainted feathers. 'Could he really have been that embarrassed?' Dean sighs again and shakes his head at the prospect of an embarrassed angel. Regardless of the reason, he knew now and should really get this ice back to him.

Sam cautiously approaches the door of Cas's room, not really sure of what to expect. He knocks on the doorframe before stepping inside and getting his first real look at Castiel's wings. His eyes widen in awe and he can't help but smile. _This_ is what he had thought angels should look like. A soft glowing halo of light surrounding a winged figure. This is what he had dreamed angels would look like when he was a little kid, back before he knew about the horrors of the night. He doesn't realize he is staring until Cas says his name.

"Huh?" He asks intelligently.

"Are you okay?" the angel asks, coming forward to see if he's okay.

"Oh, yeah, I'm okay." Sam says, mentally shaking himself as he passes the angel to put the things he brought on the bed.

After all, this is still Castiel, his friend the angel; despite the fact that he is now glowing. How weird were their lives that this sort of occurrence was fairly normal in comparison? That's when Dean comes in, hands laden with several bags of ice. He brushes past Sam in the small space and deposits them on the bed next to the duffle.

"Come here fly-boy. Let's get that wing fixed." Dean says, patting an open spot at the foot of the bed.

Cas does as he's told and sits on the edge of the mattress, carefully unfurling his injured wing and looking over his shoulder to watch what his friend will do. Dean slides in behind the angel on the bed and carefully supports the wing with his right hand as he gently places a towel wrapped ice bag on the break with his other. Castiel winces, his right wing fluttering as he tries not to pull away from Dean's careful ministrations.

"So…who knows how to splint a wing?" Dean asks, looking between Cas and Sam expectantly.

"I have never had to treat a wing in this fashion before." Cas says.

"That's why I brought this." Sam says, bringing his laptop into view of the other two before sitting next to his brother on the now crowded bed and looking up what they need.

It takes Sam and Dean a good ten minutes of squabbling over the best method and another twenty minutes to try and implement it for Cas's wing to finally be splinted in place in such a way it doesn't rub his feathers the wrong way or impede his movement.

"Thank you." Cas says as Dean fastens the end of the last bandage.

"Not a problem man. You're family; it's what we do."

Sam smiles as he watches his brother and his friend. He can't remember the last time any of them had a peaceful moment to be happy. Funny how it had to be an injury that brought them together.

"Hey, Cas" Sam says, deciding to ask the question he's been holding since the moment he saw the angel's wings. "How come you don't 'stretch your wings' more often? Isn't it uncomfortable not being able to?"

Cas contemplates the idea for a moment. "I suppose you could say that. A vessel can be very confining. Though I do 'stretch my wings', as you say, every once in a while. I tend not to manifest them though, because they can get in the way."

"That makes sense." Sam says.

"Huh." Dean says. "Then how'd you manage to hurt it?"

"As I told you. I attempted to fly without enough grace."

"No, no, I get that, but I mean, did you, you know, 'bring them out' when you tried?"

Cas tilts his head in a way that seems to ask 'don't you already know this?'

"They are manifest the moments before and after flight. That is why you can hear them." The angel explains. "On instinct I tried to dodge some debris by flying, but because I couldn't, it hit my wing."

"Ouch." Sam says, wincing sympathetically.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Cas meets Dean's serious gaze.

"Under most circumstances I can heal all of my wounds in a matter of hours, even with limited grace, but my true self was injured this time. I didn't realize that would mean I couldn't heal myself the way I do for others."

Dean sighs. "I'll tell you what I think; I think you were embarrassed and were going to try and fix it by yourself."

Cas looks down shyly. "I suppose your right…"

"Embarrassed?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, of his feathers." Dean explains, pulling the feather out of his pocket to show to Sam. "They turned black while he was in Hell."

Sam gingerly takes the offered feather and examines it.

"Turned black? What color were they before?" Sam asks, tactfully avoiding talking about Hell.

"They were white, almost clear." Cas says, fingering his feathers. "But I think they look cooler black."

He shares a look with Dean who smiles knowingly, leaving Sam wondering what he missed.

"Sometimes our flaws are our best features." Cas says, placing a grateful hand on each of his best friends' shoulders.


End file.
